Committed to the Truth
by fanofkdc
Summary: A phonecall overheard by some nosy CSIs persuades Grissom to do a little detective work.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: COMMITTED TO THE TRUTH

AUTHOR: fanofkdc

RATING: G

SPOILERS: _COMMITTED, NESTING DOLLS_

CONTENT WARNING: G/S, A LITTLE BIT OF ANGST, TEENY BIT OF ROMANCE

DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE , EXCEPT THE DUDE AT THE BODY FARM

SUMMARY: CATHERINE AND THE REST OF THE TEAM OVERHEAR SARA ON THE PHONE TO THE BOY FARM AND GET GRISSOM TO INVESTIGATE

A/N: THIS IDEA CAME ABOUT AFTER I WAS INDULGING MYSELF WITH A BIT OF ANGST, SO I HAD THE IDEA OF COMBINING SCENERY FROM THE GOOD OLE DAYS WITH MORE RECENT ANGSTY OCCURRENCES.

"Okay, well I'll be finishing my shift in an hour or so, should I just pop over then? I take someone's at the reception desk all the time." Sara was sitting in a corner of the break room, huddled up and speaking quietly into her cell.

Nick, Catherine and Greg all exchanged glances with one another, straining their ears to try and hear what Sara was saying.

Nick spoke when Sara flipped her phone shut. "Hell, girl, for a moment there you had me thinking' you were on a date, but what sort of date takes place at the body farm at five in the morning?"

Sara smiled _faux _sweetly and returned to the journal she had been reading. "Mind your own business." Her pager beeped, and she checked the device at her hip. "Greg, Hodges has got our evidence, I'm gonna go and check it out, see if he was able to get anything definitive off that sample." Her lanky frame pushed itself out of the chair, and she slouched from the room.

"I vote we dig up the dirt, see what's going on," Catherine said immediately after Sara exited.

"Yeah, Blondie, because that's what we're all about," Greg retorted.

"Who you callin' Blondie, you spiky …. blonde …. thing? Oh I give up," Catherine replied in resignation.

"Indeed, Greg, who _are_ you calling Blondie?" a voice from near the door asked. The CSIs turned and saw Grissom leaning against its frame, his arms folded and an inquisitive expression upon his face. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"Well, we're not exactly _working_ as applying the skills we acquire with this job to Sara's life."

At the mention of Sara's name, Grissom inwardly jerked, but on the surface he appeared neutral. He rolled his eyes. "Can't you just let her alone?" he asked.

"Nuh-uh," Nick answered. "We thought she was makin' arrangements for a date, but who would go on a date to a body farm?" He saw the look on Grissom's face. "Second thoughts, don't answer that."

"I have an idea," Greg piped up. "How about you go and follow her, see what she's up to? I mean, you go there all the time, right? It wouldn't look sus if you were there. If any of us, on the other hand, went there, she would _know_ we were following her."

"My God, Greg actually has a _use_," Catherine commented. "Come on Gil, don't tell us you're not intrigued. Besides," she added, "she doesn't know you know about this phone call. You'd be pretty much in the clear, as far as she's concerned. Just a little coincidence that you're there."

Grissom considered the thought, trying to justify it by telling himself that he would be doing out of Sara's best interests. "Sure. What time is she going?"

"After shift," Nick replied.

"Not much time to waste then, is there? I'd better finish that paperwork," Grissom said, turning to leave the room.

"Since when do you do _paperwork_?" Catherine asked in bewilderment.

"Since whenever," Grissom replied nonchalantly.

Grissom had made sure that he had left the building at exactly the same time as Sara, without her realising that he was following her. He managed to successfully tail her all the way to the body farm, staying two or three cars behind her for the journey, surprised at how much traffic was on the Strip at this time in the morning. His Tahoe pulled up in the car park just as she entered the reception area, so he thought that he might as well get out of the car straight away and follow her in.

"Oh, hey Sara. Didn't expect to find you here." Grissom left it a few seconds to say anything, waited until he had walked up to the reception desk, where she was waiting.

Sara smiled at him. "Funny, 'cause it doesn't really surprise me that you're here. I guess you spend half your life here, huh?" She looked him over once, imprinting on her memory what he looked like with his beard. Despite what she had once told David, she always thought guys, or at east Grissom, looked better without scruff, but now his facial hair was growing on her. Not literally, of course.

Grissom smiled a little sadly. "Bugs and dead bodies. What the hell are they gonna put on my tombstone?"

"I should think it's a little early to be thinking about that."

"So, uh, I know I'm here all the time, and I know that you always wanted to come here, so I guess you're taking a look at some of the bodies. I gotta tell you, there's one, it's a bit gruesome, but it's what happens when flies lay their eggs in open wounds. I've seen a few, but this one …. I've never seen anything like it."

Sara smiled, becoming caught up in his enthusiasm. "Actually, I'm not here to look at bodies tonight. Considering what I said to just now about your tombstone comment, I guess it's a little hypocritical."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Um, I'm putting my name down on the register to donate my body when I die."

_That _was _interesting. _"Oh. Why? You planning on staying in Vegas for the rest of your life?"

Sara shrugged. "Got nowhere else to go, no-one else to run to. Might as well throw myself into my work, shun human life and never have a meaningful relationship. Hell, I might even work my way up to being night-shift supervisor," she added sourly. Her facial expression changed as the young male receptionist returned from a filing cabinet in the back of the workspace.

"Here's the form to fill, Ms Sidle," he said, handing her a piece of paper. Are you interested in looking around tonight?"

Sara glanced sideways at Grissom. "Uh, yeah, but my friend here, Mr Grissom, he'll be showing me around."

"Ah, good morning Mr Grissom," the 'boy' said, nodded a greeting. "One of our most frequent visitors aren't you sir?"

Grissom attempted a smile and nodded. "Nowhere else to go," he echoed.

Grissom had waited for Sara to fill her form in and hand it, and held the door to the farm open for her.

"So I take it, after our _discussion_, you're still dealing with your issues with authority." He'd never forget that, never wipe from his mind her face as she told him about her tragic past.

"Oh, I've still got _plenty_ of problems," she answered angrily. "One of them is walking alongside me right now."

Grissom's mouth moved in agreement. "You ever thought about trying to sort it out?"

"Actually, I had the problem with it because he was incapable of showing any human feelings. So I guess it's my problem for choosing emotionally unavailable men," she said in echo of their conversation.

"_Do_ you have an alcohol problem?" he asked frankly.

"Only when there isn't enough," Sara joked with a straight face. "I though you thought I didn't have one."

"I could have been wrong. I _can _be wrong, you know," he told her.

"I know," she told him bitterly.

"Have you …. Have you considered seeking therapy? You know, after what you've told me?"

Sara stopped walking and shoved her hands in her pockets. "I've …. I've thought about it," she admitted.

"What's stopping you?" Grissom pressed gently. He tried to maintain eye contact with her, but she was having none of it.

"After that Adam Trent thing …. I didn't want to think about another place like that for a long time. It's bad enough that you have to go to one of those places when you're a kid, to visit your crazy mother, but it's even worse when you try to forget about it, and then you have to go back to one when you're older."

"Do you mean as a CSI or as a patient? Is that what you're worried about? You're so far gone that you'll have to go to one of those places? 'Cause I get the feeling that if you don't get some kind of help now, you could end up doing something further down the line that _could_ result in you getting sent there, even if only for a brief amount of time. And that bothers me."

"Does it really?2 she asked angrily, but her voice dropped suddenly to being quiet and frightened. "That's funny, I wouldn't have expected you to say that." She scuffed her shoes on the ground, and her eyes flitted to a body lying nearby.

"Why not?" In an effort to reach out metaphorically, he did so physically, rasping her sleeve.

"Remember when I asked if you thought violence was hereditary, and you told me that you didn't think genes were a predictor of violence?" Grissom nodded. "What you just said doesn't really support your theory."

Grissom voice fell to a whisper. "I , uh …. I lied. I saw how upset you were. I didn't want to make you feel any worse. But even though genes could predict violence, I've never seen that trait in you. You're certainly passionate, and hot-headed. But we both know what sort of cases preclude such passion and anger, and so I think it's more the circumstances than a genetic predisposition. I just think you choose the wrong ways to cope with your feelings."

She knew he was right, but the problem was that _he _never seemed to follow his own thoughts. "Would it matter if it was genetic? What about your hearing?" She saw his face twitch. "Sorry, but I _had _to bring it up."

"It's not about me, it's about you."

"Yeah, but that leads on to you, doesn't it? I mean, not wanting to point fingers, but part of the reason I've gone so screwy is because of you."

Grissom's jaw clenched. "We've already had this conversation."

"Except that it was me that was being pressurised."

"Only because I care." Grissom looked her straight in the eye.

"Why are you making this mistake?"

"What mistake?" Grissom's face became puzzled.

"Don't get mad, but Cath told me about your dad. And I see you making the same mistakes as those that happened in your past."

Grissom looked away, his eyes feeling moist. "What do you mean?"

"You don't know how your dad died, and it meant that a lot of things weren't said. Now, you're not telling people how you really feel about them, and tomorrow it could be too late. It's almost been too late several times, but you've had the wisdom to drag your finger out ever so slowly and reluctantly. But one day, it will be too late."

"What would you say if I told you that the reason I hadn't told people certain things was because if I'd have done so, one day in the future, they'll die, and being close to them would mean even more hurt."

"You were close to your father? You got hurt pretty bad by not knowing how he died?"

"Yeah. I know, I'm reinforcing patterns of behaviour from when I was nine years old, and I should know better, but I feel safer this way." He had long since relinquished her sleeve.

"But the hurt of not knowing, the uncertainty, that's more painful than not knowing whether or not someone cares about you." It was Sara's turn to reach out, but this time, she took hold of his hand. "Have you ever thought about finding out how he died?"

Grissom shrugged. "I'd like to. But I don't know what I'd find. I don't know if I _want_ to know, deep down."

"I could help," Sara suggested. "You wouldn't have to face it alone. I know what being alone when you're going through heavy stuff is like, and I wouldn't wish it upon anyone."

"You'd be willing to help me after all I've done to you? Or, more precisely, not done?"

"What sort of person would I be if I didn't? Not to mention the fact that you kept me on after I was insubordinate to Ecklie, and that you came to see me. Hell, you even held my hand when I cried." This wasn't as sincere as the preceding sentence.

"I would have held you, but I was afraid."

"Of what? That I would stab you or something?"

"Of what you'd _think_. I was uncertain of how I felt, and I didn't want to lead you on, I didn't want to hurt you any more than you'd already been hurt." He squeezed her hand.

"I wouldn't have looked upon it like that. I would have been grateful. And it wouldn't have hurt to have had some kind of comfort after Adam Trent held me hostage."

"You had enough guys putting their hands all over you in there. You looked like you needed space."

"I don't need space now," she told him.

"You want a hug?" Grissom asked uncertainly.

"Wouldn't do any harm."

Grissom stepped closer to her, and slowly and gingerly pulled her into his arms. They stood for a minute or two, their arms around each other, gently savouring the comfort and warmth their bodies offered.

"Did you mean what you said? Bout helping me find out about my father?" he whispered softly in her ear.

"Of course. That's what's friends are for," she whispered back.

"Thank you."

"If you think it would help, I can see about having some more counselling."

"If that's what you need."

She thought for a moment. "To be honest, they don't offer you hugs, just tissues. I'd rather have a hug from you than a tissue from them."

"What? You want to tell _me_ about how you're feeling?"

"Well, you _are_ my boss. Think you can cope with that? Or is it a bit too much for you?"

"I should be fine, as long as I can talk to you about _my _stuff."

"I've always wanted that."

"It's a deal then. We counsel each other. I'll get on the phone tomorrow, try and speak to my mother. If that holds nothing, I'll get in touch with the Santa Monica coroner's office."

They let go of each other, and Sara took his hand. "You wanna show me this really cool dead body, then?"

THE END


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: COMMITTED TO THE TRUTH PART 2

AUTHOR: fanofkdc

RATING: G

SPOILERS: _COMMITTED, NESTING DOLLS_

CONTENT WARNING: G/S, A LITTLE BIT OF ANGST, TEENY BIT OF ROMANCE

DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE

SUMMARY: AFTER THE MEETING AT THE BODY FARM, GRISSOM CONFIDES IN SARA AFTER HE DISCOVERS HOW HIS FATHER DIED.

A/N: THIS IDEA CAME ABOUT AFTER I WAS INDULGING MYSELF WITH A BIT OF ANGST, SO I HAD THE IDEA OF COMBINING SCENERY FROM THE GOOD OLE DAYS WITH MORE RECENT ANGSTY OCCURRENCES.

THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO THE PERSON WHO LEFT A REVIEW SAYING IT WOULD BE NICE IF I FINISHED THE STORY, OR DID A CONTINUATION.

Sara knocked on the door to Grissom's office. "Gris, it's me," she called through the gap between the frame and the door. "Are you free at the moment?"

"Sure, come in," he called back.

She entered the office, and saw Grissom sitting behind his desk, glasses perched on his nose, blue eyes shining through the clear lenses. "Hey. Did you have a chance to speak to your mom?"

Grissom looked at his watch. "Oh, I thought this was connected to a case. Um, I was planning to come and find you after, let you know what happened."

"Is something wrong?" Sara asked in concern.

"I'd just prefer it if we were somewhere private when I informed you of what happened." He took his glasses off, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, an act he seemed to perform when particularly stressed.

"You wanna go somewhere peaceful, tranquil?" Sara leaned back against the doorframe and folded her arms across her chest.

"Like where?" He regarded her with interest.

"There's this cool little lake I found off the Strip, a quiet place, I never see many people around there when I'm there." She shrugged her shoulders. "Thought if you wanna go somewhere quiet where you wouldn't be disturbed, that's pretty much an ideal place."

"It sounds fine," he replied, smiling in gratitude. "Meet me by the Denali at the end of shift, we can drive out together, and then I'll drop you back here."

Sara was waiting promptly for Grissom when he finally finished the shift. "I remember, you were like this all the time when I was up at Harvard. On time for all your lectures," he added with a smirk.

"That's because I had nowhere else to be," she quipped, adding a 'thank you' as he held the passenger door open for her.

"And there was me thinking that my presence lured you to the lecture hall," he joked back.

"Oh, it did, but I would have been there on time or before time regardless of who was giving the lecture."

"You wanna give me directions to this place?" he asked, gunning the ignition. Sara told him the rough direction in which to travel. "You mind if I put some music on?" he asked, glancing at her out the corner of his eye.

"You may do that when you're driving along on your own, and I know _I _certainly do, but you have company. Where are your manners?"

"I'm sorry," Grissom replied, mock chivalrous.

"Actually, I can't pull you up on that," Sara remarked. "You held the door open for me."

Fifteen minutes later they drew up on a gravel shore overlooking a beautiful still lake. Stretching out in the background were the hills, obscured partially by a cluster of trees. "You sure know how to pick 'em," Grissom commented in admiration, killing the engine. "Only one problem."

"What's that?" Sara asked, pushing open the passenger door and slipping out deftly.

"This place is a little too secluded for you to visit on your own. If, like now, only you and one other person knew you were here, it'd be easy for them to ….," he trailed off uncomfortably.

"Something you wanna tell me? You're not planning to off me and throw me in the lake, are you?"

Grissom frowned. "That's not something you should joke about. But it is a nice spot," he conceded.

Sara led them down to where the edge of the lake met the gravel. "Okay, so spill. What happened?"

"I called the home my mom's in," he replied, slowly and carefully choosing his words, staring out over the lake's placid surface.

_In a way, that's the perfect description of Grissom, _Sara thought. _Still waters, and all that shit_. "How did you communicate?"

"They have a person, a translator if you like, that signs whatever you say. But my mom didn't wanna talk about it."

Sara was standing next to him, literally shoulder to shoulder. "What did you do then?" she asked, respectfully focusing on a point far out into the lake.

"I called the coroner's office in Santa Monica and gave them my father's name, date of birth and date of death. They've recently put all their files on to a computerised program, it only took them five or so minutes to get back to me."

"And?" Sensing his unease, her hand slipped into his and gave it a comforting squeeze.

He squeezed back, and did not relinquish his grip. "It was an aneurysm." He snorted bitterly. "Years of alcohol abuse, and he's offed by an aneurysm. It's not fair," he remarked, his voice rising slightly.

"He fight in the war?" Sara questioned.

"Yeah. It fucked him up a lot, he was in the Pacific. He saw a lot of horrible shit, that's why he drank." His head dropped and he stared at the ground.

"How do you feel about it?" Sara let go of his hand and leaned into his side, slipping an arm around his waist.

"How am I supposed to feel? To be honest, deep down I never thought I wanted an answer. And now? I don't know. I suppose I should feel closure, some kind of relief, because I've got answers. But ….". He couldn't finish the sentence. He began to shake, wracked with quiet sobs.

"Hey, it's okay, shhh," Sara whispered, trying to soothe him. She rubbed his back. "You still feel angry?"

"Why would I feel angry?" he asked in bewilderment between gasping for air.

"Because it was kept a secret for forty years. Does that not hurt in some way?"

He turned to look at her. "I don't know how I feel," he protested helplessly. "I feel something, but I'm not sure what it is. I just wish I hadn't spent all these years not knowing," he enunciated through clenched teeth.

"You want some company?"

"Meaning?"

"Not like that," Sara explained. "I just thought, you know, maybe you want me to stick around for a bit, in case you feel like another cry. There's nothing worse than crying and knowing there's no-one to hear."

Grissom shrugged. "I guess. Couldn't do any harm," he added. "Yours or mine?"


	3. Chapter 3

I GOT CARRIED AWAY AND DECIDED TO WRITE ANOTHER CHAPTER. ALL THE SAME RATING AND DISCLAIMER INFO APPLIES TO THIS CHAPTER AS STATED IN THE FIRST CHAPTER.

"Sorry if my apartment's a little messy," Sara apologised, pushing her way through her door. "I never seem to get a chance to tidy up," she explained.

Grissom, still somewhat dumbfounded, dismissed it. "It looks fine," he said. "Lived in."

"That's the problem. I sometimes think I want one of those perfect show homes without any weird blankets or books or anything like that."

"This place reflects you as a person, though," Grissom protested.

"What? Messy, disordered and chaotic?" She laughed. "I guess you're right."

"I was thinking more along the lines of deep, intelligent and complicated."

"How can a room be intelligent?" She caught his eye and smiled. "Okay, sorry, I'll just accept the compliments at face value. Can I get you anything? A drink?"

"No thanks. To be honest, I don't know why I came back here. I'm burnt out, I need sleep."

"Use my bed," Sara stated matter-of-factly.

"Where will you sleep?" Grissom eyed his surroundings, taking in the artwork and Buddha statues and books and chakra diagrams.

"In my bed," Sara replied. "Don't worry, I'm not coming on to you. I wear pyjamas," she added.

"I don't know if that's a good idea." Gil didn't actually look that uncomfortable with the proposal.

"What? Wearing pyjamas? Hey, I'm taking the piss," she said. "Look, I figure you need a person around, and I happen to be that person. I just thought maybe you want a cuddle, or someone else's body heat while you were asleep. It's soothing," she said.

"I wouldn't know, I haven't experienced that sort of feeling," Grissom retorted, eyes still scanning the room.

"Neither would I," Sara confessed. "But my romantic streak is telling me it would be a nice sensation." She observed Grissom observing her living room. "Look, I know we don't have the easiest relationship. We never have. Even when things are good between us, there always seems to be friction somewhere."

"That's the sexual tension."

"You're joking," she gabbled.

"You see me laughing? I mean it. That's why I've always tried to keep my distance a bit. I'll make a flirty comment and then step back. I always think I've gone too far."

"Yeah, well sometimes you don't go far enough."

"I know."

"So what do you say? Do you want a bit of non-sexual, purely platonic comfort?"

"Men and women, or at least you and I, can never be purely platonic. There's always a sinister undercurrent flowing."

Sara rolled her eyes. "If you wanna go, you know where the door is."

"No!" Grissom protested, reaching for her hand. "I do want to stay. And I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you've done for me the past couple of days. But I'm scared we could spoil what we already have."

"What about if now were just platonic, and we worked through the other issues at a later date. We don't have to let our unruly hormones get the better of us."

"Don't we?"

"Hell, no! I know if mine had, you'd know by now. In fact, I would at this point, or perhaps at some other point much earlier in our history, you would now have no trousers on. In fact, I think any undergarments would have gone missing too."

Grissom laughed in spite of himself. "You think we can last one night?"

"Sure. And if not, who am I to get in the way of nature? And you, as a biologist, who would _you_ be, preventing a natural phenomenon?"

"Who indeed?" Grissom wondered aloud.

THE END


	4. Chapter 4

Well, due to the response I have had from several people who have left reviews, I have decided to write one last, final chapter (until the next one). So it is with great thanks and pleasure that I dedicate this chapter to scrimshaw89, joyce, twitter, anneruhland, O deep blue (I had to write it like that because my laptop automatically changes the spelling to 'deplume'), star eagle and SGBS4L. Thank you for the encouragement!

Sara's bedroom was not much different than her living room. It was decorated in warm colours, and filled with books, Buddhist ornaments and assorted …. things. He caught sight of the police scanner on her bedside table, and felt a pang of sadness, similar to a feeling of guilt. "So this is the police scanner," he called through the ensuite bathroom door to Sara, who was changing and brushing her teeth.

"Oh, you've seen it have you? Is there any noise or anything coming out of it?"

"Damn, Sara, give yourself a break. Is that why you never seem to get much sleep? You lay up the half the night, waiting for the next impending tragedy?"

The ensuite door swung open to reveal Sara frowning, wearing a pair of shorts and a vest. "Name something else that I could do with my time in bed, aside from sleeping," she muttered.

Grissom swallowed. "I thought you wore pyjamas in bed," he mumbled, almost incoherent. In front of him were her long legs, and he was pretty sure he had been the only guy in a long while allowed to see them.

"They are," Sara replied, quite enjoying Grissom's discomfort. "Why?"

"Oh, uh, nothing," he stuttered. "It's just when people say they're wearing pyjamas, I take that to mean trousers and night shirts."

Sara grinned. "My attire offends you?"

"Oh, no, not at all. I …. I, you know, it doesn't uh, it doesn't bother me. I just, uh, I just wasn't prepared for ….".

Sara cocked her head and raised and eyebrow. "What?"

Grissom closed his eyes and opened his mouth. "I wasn't expecting to be treated to a view of your body like that," he gabbled.

"Good thing you don't work out with me," she said, not realising the connotations her words held. "That'd _really_ set you off." She noticed Grissom's lips pinching together, his eyes still closed, this time displaying a look of excruciating pain. "What?"

"What you said just then about working out," he replied in a strained voice. "The though just lends itself to the situation a little too well, and I'm kinda frustrated at the moment."

Sara shrugged, trying her best to ignore the fact that he was now incredibly and visibly aroused. "Bathroom's free for you to use," she said in a matter-of-fact voice.

He spent almost ten minutes in there, and Sara, resting between the bed sheets could guess what was up. As she thought this, she put a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. The bathroom door opened, and Grissom stepped out, self-consciously holding his neatly-folded clothes to his pair chest. The only item of clothing that remained on his body was a pair of black underpants, not quite y-fronts, not quite boxer shorts.

"I didn't know guys took so long to get ready for bed," she teased.

"Yeah, I have a rigorous night-time regime," he answered as nonchalantly as possible.

"Glad to hear it," Sara said, almost under her breath. She patted the empty space on the bed next to her. "You ready?"

Gil nodded, placing his clothes on a chair. Trying not to panic, he approached the bed, and pulled the remaining bit of cover back, sliding in between the under sheet and the duvet. "This is warm," he commented, settling back.

"It's 'cause I've been keeping it warm for ten minutes." Sara huddled closer to Grissom. "Do I not get a hug?"

Grissom slipped an arm around her, holding her close. "Sorry," he apologised. "You know, I'm not very good at all this kind of stuff," he said.

Sara, Grissom's arm still around her, propped herself up on an elbow and studied his face. "Good at what?"

"Good at pretending I don't feel anything when I'm around you," he said bluntly.

"Maybe you shouldn't then."

Grissom shrugged his mouth in agreement. "I was beginning to think that myself." He looked into the chocolate eyes that stared back at him. "You reckon we could stand a serious chance of making this happen? 'Cause if it didn't work out, I wouldn't wanna lose you as a friend."

"How do we know what will happen if we don't take risks? Sure, one or both of us could fuck up, but at least we'd _know_ it wasn't meant to be. I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering about what could have happened."

Grissom passed a hand over her arm. "Why the hell do you put yourself through this?" he asked, genuinely bemused.

"Because I care about you. And goddamn you're hot. How could I not live with the hope that one day we might actually see some action?" She smiled at him sincerely. "All my life, it was hard enough finding friends who were like me. I knew it would be even worse finding a life-time partner. Then I found _you._ I had you as a teacher, as a boss, as a friend, and I'll admit it, I really am attracted to you. In every single way possible. So why should I give up on you if I think of you like that? You're worth the wait."

He picked up her hand and turned it over, studying the palm, the forearm, the bicep, the shoulder. "I'm glad you didn't give up on me," he whispered.

"So am I," Sara agreed. She linked fingers with his and drew herself closer to him.

He moved towards her, their legs becoming intertwined. "If you think this could work then …. then I want in."

Sara studied him carefully. "You sure?"

He nodded in reply. "The only reason nothing has happened is because I was too much of a chicken-shit to do anything about it. I don't know why I put myself through mental and physical agonies because I'm too scared of being with you . I know it would cause less hurt to confront my feelings." He leaned forward and brushed his lips against the arm he had just been looking at, trailing kisses all the way down it. When he finished, he lifted his head, his lips enclosing Sara's bottom lip.

His beard tickled at first, but Sara didn't notice as they deepened the kiss. Their mouths opened against each other, their hands and tongues becoming bolder, and then all too soon it was over.

Sara drew a deep, ragged breath. "For a guy who isn't good with people, that was remarkably pleasurable."

Grissom smiled, the first time he had done so in a while, his blue eyes regaining some of their old sparkle. "What can I say? And what can I say about you? Although I have often looked at your mouth and wondered what it would be like to kiss you," he added.

"Did I match up to your expectations?"

"Surpassed them, my dear," he said, running two fingers up and down her leg, stopping just underneath the cloth of her shorts.

"Uh, Gil?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't think we should, you know, _do_ anything, if you know what I mean. I just don't want to rush things, I want to enjoy each stage of what we have. I want to savour each moment without the fear that we'll run out of time."

"Hey, if you don't feel ready, I'd never ask you to do something you weren't happy with. I respect that aspect of you, there's no way I'd ask you to renounce it. It's what I like about you, among other things."

Sara smiled weakly. "Thank you."

Grissom wrapped her in his arms. "You're welcome."

"Goodnight Gil," she whispered.

"Goodnight honey."

THIS IS THE PENULTIMATE CHAPTER. THERE WILL BE ONE LEFT AFTER THIS.


	5. Chapter 5

THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER. REGARDS, THANKS AND BEST WISHES GO OUT TO ALL THE PEOPLE MENTIONED IN CHAPTER FOUR - I WOULD LIKE TO THANK THEM FOR THEIR REVIEWS AND SUPPORT, BECAUSE WITHOUT THEM, I DON'T THINK I WOULD HAVE CONTINUED THE STORY.

"Sara, could you meet me in Grissom's office in five minutes?" Catherine popped her head around the door of the break room, startling Sara, who was sitting in her corner doing a crossword.

Nick and Warrick exchanged glances. "Ooh, what you been up to now?" Warrick crowed.

"Aw, come on, it can't have been too bad, otherwise boss man would have come in here instead," Nick drawled.

Sara wasn't so sure. Knowing her work history, she would have preferred to see Grissom than Catherine, considering the two women could sometimes clash.

Sara knocked on the door to Grissom's office with some trepidation, not expecting Grissom to open it.

"Come in and have a seat," he said, holding the door open for her. She saw Catherine standing behind Grissom's desk.

"Have I done something?" Sara asked uncertainly.

Catherine and Grissom exchanged a look, and Grissom spoke. "Due to the nature of our relationship now, I don't feel it would be appropriate if I were your supervisor. I spoke to Catherine about the situation, and we both agreed that it would be better if she were your direct superior. I'm still running night-shift, and I'll still do all your paperwork, but I'd have to consult with her on your evaluations. You can still work with me, and the others, on cases, but we figured this way we might be able to save ourselves trouble higher up, with people like Ecklie and Carvallo."

Sara nodded slowly, taking it all in. "So nothing has changed, really. This is just a formality?"

Catherine nodded. "But if you go over my head to Grissom, like I know you've wanted to before ….".

"Cath, leave her alone. That was one case, a traumatic one, okay? It won't happen again." Grissom turned to Sara. "If you go over Cath's head, I will finally have to take disciplinarian action. You'll either get fired or lose your job. You understand?"

Sara nodded again. "That was one moment of frustration when I threatened to go over your head," she told Catherine. "I promise I won't even contemplate it."

Catherine nodded and smiled. "Despite our clashes, I know you're a perfectly good CSI, okay? Just don't go mad." Catherine looked at Grissom. "I'm gonna go, Archie had some information on that case for us."

Grissom nodded and waited for Catherine to leave. When she did, he smiled at Sara. "I'm sorry about the tough line, but it was the only way I could persuade Catherine to supervise." He stood by his desk playing with his glasses.

Sara rose from the chair and approached the desk, leaning forward and supporting herself by planting both hands on the flat surface. "It's okay. I appreciate that you're taking these steps to prevent us from being separated permanently." She checked her watch. "I'm going to have to go early, if that's okay."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Birthday surprise?" he asked.

"Maybe," Sara replied.

"Ask your new boss," he told her.

"Cath, I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could leave a bit early today." Sara found Catherine going over a bloodstained shirt.

"Why?" Catherine didn't look up, but continued to focus on the piece of bloody evidence before her eyes.

"It's Gil's birthday, isn't it? I have a couple of things I need to pick up and get sorted before he comes home," Sara replied, looking over Catherine's shoulder.

"One condition."

"What?"

Catherine jabbed the air in front of the shirt with a latex-coated finger. "There's something that's bugging me, but I can't put my finger on it."

"Suspect said he found the vic face down on top of the floor. The floor in question has a distict embossed pattern. If the vic had bled out at the scene, there would a pattern on this shirt but there isn't."

Catherine cocked her head to the left, analysing the shirt. "Fair enough, but how would that explain the blood pool found at the scene?"

Sara picked up one of the crime scene photos Nick had taken. "The pooling doesn't look consistent with the injury. It's very neat, there's no blood spatter. The guy got stabbed in the carotid, as well as multiple wounds to the chest, we think, so there should be major arterial spray. It looks like the killer has taken the vic's blood, maybe drawn it out with a syringe, put it in a vial, and spread it out underneath the body."

Catherine nodded in realisation. "Yeah, there was no blood on the walls at all. Totally clean."

"Has Doc Robbins done the autopsy yet?"

"No."

"I'll go and ask him to check for any needle punctures and lividity."

"You know what that means, don't you?" Catherine asked in despair. Sara nodded, and they both uttered the words "We need to look for a primary crime scene."

"You can go when you've paid a visit to our friend Doc Robbins the coroner," Catherine said.

"Thanks," Sara replied in gratitude.

"I'm just glad you guys have finally sorted yourselves out, it was getting pretty damn tiring being around a couple of hormonal co-workers. I know he's sincere about this, though," Catherine told her.

"Uh, thanks," Sara said, unsure of what else she could say.

"I wasn't expecting all this," Grissom told Sara back at his apartment. When she had left work, she had gone to pick up a first edition hardback biography of Edmund Locard, and also stopped by 'Victoria's Secret.'

She had come back to his and cooked a meal for them both, and they were now in the kitchen doing the washing up.

"Yeah, well I just thought maybe you'd like a nice surprise, a change from whatever it is you normally do celebrate your birthday."

"I'd be sitting in on my own, listening to Rachmaninov, with a glass of Scotch and a book. To be honest, I was kind of wishing we'd be doing that this year. That Locard book looks absolutely wonderful." Standing behind her, he slipped his arms around her waist and into the sink, wiping the plates with a sponge.

Sara swatted one of his hands. "I may make no attempts to socialise you ….".

"Thank God."

"But I would like to think that once in a while we do something a little different. I don't mind sitting in quietly - it's what I do most of the time, but a bit of variation's nice."

"Oh, I know," Grissom whispered, his breath warm against the back of her neck. "Thank you."

Sara dried the last of the dishes, and turned to face him. They were in close proximity, the only for Sara to get out from her position was blocked by Grissom, his hands on either side of her. "This remind you of anything?" she breathed.

"Not that I can think of," Grissom replied, looking quizzical.

"Pin me down?" Sara said, raising her eyebrows hopefully.

"Oh, the bed sheet?" He smiled wickedly.

Sara nodded. "If you give me, say, ten minutes, I've just got to go and do something. I'll give you a call when I'm ready."

Grissom had poured himself a Scotch, and had just settled down on the couch with his book when he heard Sara calling him through the bedroom door. "Close your eyes."

"How am I supposed to find the door if I can't see it?" he grumbled.

"It's your apartment, you should know it well enough to be able to find it without walking into anything except a room," Sara called back.

He managed to find the door without sustaining any major injuries and reached for the door handle, pushing the door open. "Can I open my damn eyes before they glue themselves shut?" he asked.

"Not yet." She waited a couple of seconds, watched the frustration build in his face.

Grissom could not bear the suspense. "Okay, I'm opening my ….," he trailed off mid-sentence, having opened his eyes and seen Sara standing in front of him.

She had spent half an hour in 'Victoria's Secret' looking for the right thing for their first time. All the while, she could not help thinking of the case of the ice hockey player. "Can you guess what it is?" she asked, smiling, enjoying toying with him.

He knew straight away. After he asked her what 'Victoria's Secret' was, he hadn't been able to stop imagining what Sara herself would look like in that underwear. "Beauty," he murmured.

Sara nodded. "I figured I'd like to give you something extra special for your birthday."

Grissom closed the gap between them, his hands pressing themselves to her waist. She slipped her arms up onto his shoulders. "Are you sure? You're definitely ready?"

"Yeah. I mean, today's as good a day as any. I've been feeling settled about it the past few days, so I decided I'd save it until tonight. I really appreciate you waiting."

"Well, it wouldn't be any good if you didn't feel confident about what you were doing, would it?" His fingers slid down slowly, underneath the waistband of her panties.

"Are you ready? Obviously, you seem to be ready, at least physically, but what about emotionally? Can you promise that you can give your self to me one hundred per cent? I know it's a lot to ask, but I want to be sure that this means something to you."

"I promise," he answered sincerely, his blue, soulful eyes penetrating hers. "I waited, didn't I? Besides, although I was reluctant to admit it, but _you've _always had _me_. Always."

She knew then that he wasn't lying. " Okay, then." She pulled his lips onto hers so suddenly that he almost stumbled, his legs straddling to support himself. He gently pushed her back until her bare legs touched the edge of the bed. Equally gently, Sara sat on the edge, pulling him down on top of her.

"I love you, Sara," he whispered in between kisses.

"I love you too," she replied.

Grissom woke first the next morning. In the night, he and Sara had somehow become disentangled, and now she lay slightly from him, her back to him. He closed the gap, and gently kissed her bare shoulder. He couldn't have wished for anything better last night, not even in his wildest dreams or fantasies. He hadn't had many partners, but even so, knew that what he and Sara had shared was something special.

"Mmm," Sara mumbled groggily. "Whastime?" she grumbled.

"About eight, honey," he answered, resting a hand on her hip. "You okay?"

She turned to face him, her face brightened considerably with a beautiful smile that displayed the gap between her teeth. "I'm great, thanks to you," she replied. She touched his chest with her hand. "What about you?"

The corner of his mouth turned up. To someone else, it may not have been much, but Sara knew Gil was never really one for full-blown smiles. "The same."

"You still dedicated to your promise?"

"If I wasn't before last night, I definitely would be now," he told her honestly. "I meant every word of what I said to you last night."

"_Every _word?" she asked mischievously.

"Uh huh. _Every_ word," he reiterated. "Come on, honey, we should get ready for work."

"What we going to say if they ask us how your birthday went?"

"Just tell them we had a nice quiet evening in. The only part we'd be lying about is the quiet bit, and we _were_ quiet for most of the evening." He slid his legs out of the covers, and picked his boxers up from the floor. "I'm gonna go and get ready, okay?"

"Leave some hot water for me," she called. She hoped every morning for the rest of her life would be like this.

THE END.


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